


Dreamcatcher

by SomewhereFlying



Category: Persona 5
Genre: (or is it), Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, M/M, Masturbation, Wet Dream
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-04
Updated: 2018-08-04
Packaged: 2019-06-21 09:10:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15554403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SomewhereFlying/pseuds/SomewhereFlying
Summary: It wasn’t like this was the first time Akira had hadthatkind of dream about someone. It’s just, usually the dreams weren’t so vivid. Also, he was pretty sure people weren’t supposed to know if you’d dreamed about them. Perhaps he was just imaging the way Akechi was looking at him, then…





	Dreamcatcher

* * *

 

Akira thought he probably had a crush.

It was sort of a bad habit of his, getting overly attached to people too quickly. It happened with Ryuji and Ann and Yusuke and even Morgana; they had known each other for just a few months now, and yet he found himself closer to them that he was to friends he’d known since middle school.

(It was the reason he was in this whole mess to begin with, too. One look at a stranger suffering on the street and all his common sense went out the window.)

No one could really blame him for growing close to the Thieves so quickly, though. There were… _unique_ circumstances surrounding their coalition, after all. Friends forged in the fire of rebellion were something special – the affection Akira felt for them, it couldn’t be helped.

Then, on the other hand, there was Goro Akechi.

Even though their interactions thus far had been limited to chance meetings while waiting for the train to arrive, Akira found himself inexplicably drawn to the detective. It was undeniable that there was a spark of mutual interest between them – even Akechi thought so, if his occasional comments about fate were any indication – but…

But he sort of doubted that when Akechi said he looked forward to seeing Akira, he meant it in the same way Akira looked forward to seeing him. He delighted in their conversations, of course, but more and more Akira found himself distracted, less interested in actually talking than in seeing what kind of smiles he could get Akechi to make, in watching the way he moved his hands while he spoke, or the way his hair stuck to his neck from the summer heat…

Yeah. It was a crush, probably.

That would, at least, explain the dreams.

Familiar faces always populated his dreams, so at first Akira didn’t think anything of it, waking up and recalling a dream in which Akechi had taken part. Dreams were just projections of what was on your mind, right? So Akechi was on his mind. That was understandable; he _was_ the one investigating the Phantom Thieves, after all. Most of the time they were ordinary dreams, anyway, complete nonsense that would leave his memory before he even woke up.

Most of the time.

More and more frequently, Akira found himself dreaming about the Metaverse. He really hated when that happened, not only because it felt like dreaming about work, but because these were often less like dreams and more like nightmares, filled with twisted shadows and the sight of his teammates in danger – the kind of images that caused him to wake up in a cold sweat. Sometimes, however, they were more innocuous – silly, even.

Tonight he was visiting Kaneshiro’s stupid floating bank Palace, which really should have been the first tip to his subconscious that he was dreaming, considering they had stolen Kaneshiro’s treasure and collapsed his Palace a week ago already. That didn’t occur to him, though, and instead he blindly accepted the fact that he had somehow ended up deep within the vault, far from the entrance, and decidedly alone.

No, Akira realized; not alone. There was someone a few paces away, back turned to Akira, and definitely a person, not an ATM on legs like the residents of Kaneshiro’s mindscape – but they weren’t a thief either, not dressed like that (that being _normal_ ). Akira wracked his brain. If they weren’t a thief, and they weren’t a cognition, then that must have meant…

Shit, it meant they were in danger.

“Hey,” Akira called out, taking a few quick steps in their direction. He was already formulating an escape plan, reaching for his dagger – he didn’t see any shadows in the immediate vicinity, and the Thieves had opened a pathway from the inner vault back to the entrance already, so it wasn’t as though they would have far to travel, but without back-up…

The person turned when they heard Akira’s voice, and Akira was so surprised he stumbled to a halt, almost tripping over himself.

“Akechi?” he blurted out. “Why are you here? _How_ are you here?”

Akechi tilted his head and looked at him curiously. “I’m sorry… have we met?” he asked, his voice as calm and pleasant as ever. He didn’t seem put-off by his surroundings at all.

Belatedly, Akira realized that he must have been in full Joker gear. He quickly removed his mask and Akechi’s expression changed: still surprised, but happier now, and the brief pang of disappointment Akira had felt when Akechi didn’t recognize him immediately disappeared.

“Kurusu-san? That’s you?” Akechi asked, raising a hand to his chin. “I wouldn’t have guessed… what an interesting get-up.”

Akira ran a hand through his hair and laughed a little. Compared to Akechi, who was as immaculately dressed as he had been on TV last week, Akira must have looked particularly strange. He didn’t have time to be embarrassed, though, as a thunderous boom from somewhere far off in the bank reminded him that they were in enemy territory.

“Hey, don’t worry about that right now,” Akira said. “You really shouldn’t be here – it’s dangerous.”

Akechi looked around the vault and frowned in thought. “I admit I don’t exactly remember how I got here…” he said. “But you seem familiar with this place, so may I ask for an escort out?”

“Of course,” Akira said, already heading for the door, motioning for Akechi to follow.

They made their way down the hallway and back into the laundering office – Akira checked the safe room but the door was locked, because _of course_ it was – Akira leading the way and Akechi right on his heel. Their trip was largely uneventful until they had all but reached the entrance, where Akira spotted a lone security guard standing right in their path. It didn’t appear to be patrolling, which meant someone must have instructed it to guard the entrance and apprehend them on their way out. Akira cursed under his breath and held out his arm.

“Stay back, okay?” he asked Akechi. “I’ve gotta take care of this guy.”

Before he’d made it even two steps away, Akechi grabbed him by the shoulder and yanked him back. “You’re going to fight it? Are you insane?” he hissed.

Akira had to swallow a smile. It wouldn’t be appropriate, might make him seem flippant of the danger they were in, but he couldn’t help it; hearing the worry in Akechi’s voice made his heart soar. He didn’t get to play hero that often – anti-hero was a much more suitable role for a Phantom Thief – so he had to enjoy it while he had the chance.

“Trust me,” Akira said. “Just stay hidden, okay?”

With some reluctance, Akechi agreed, letting Akira go and stooping low to the ground so he could peer around the corner without being seen. Satisfied, Akira made his way towards the entrance, darting in between long benches until he was close enough to ambush the shadow, at which point he wrenched off its mask with no fanfare.

Two tall, purple-skinned demon women appeared out of the murk. Akira frowned, and wished he weren’t alone; if memory served, Makoto had no trouble dealing with this particular shadow. But the shadows at the entrance were weaklings compared to what he’d faced deep in the vaults, and even without a way to exploit their weakness, Akira was able to take them down with only a few scratches to show for it.

With the fight finished, Akira hurried back over to the corner where he’d left Akechi, who was already on his feet. His expression was deceptively neutral, his wide eyes the only real sign that he was in any way surprised by what had just taken place.

“That was… something,” Akechi said. “I apologize for doubting you. You’re quite strong.”

“It – it’s no big deal,” Akira replied, shrugging and turning his head to look at the entrance, and not at Akechi, who would see the flush creeping up his cheeks otherwise. “We should keep going.”

Together, they left the bank and made their way to the ground, where Akira was able to activate the app and drag them both back into the real world at last. Akechi, who had stayed remarkably calm throughout their entire trip, now let out a shaky breath, standing stiffly beside Akira and brushing out the wrinkles from his shirt.

“Well, I… that is, Kurusu-san…” Akechi began to say. “I don’t know what just happened, but I think without your assistance, those creatures… well.” He cleared his throat. “…I don’t know how to thank you.”

An idea came to Akira and before he could let his judgment get the better of him, he said, “You could give me a kiss.”

Instantly, he wished he hadn’t. His whole face went hot, all the way to the tips of his ears, as he watched a brief look of – surprise? Amusement? One of those things – cross over Akechi’s face. Akira opened his mouth to apologize, to say he was just kidding, to say _something_ , but before he could get a word out Akechi took a step closer, raising a hand to cup Akira’s cheek. The pads of his gloved fingertips brushed lightly over Akira’s skin and then Akechi closed the distance between them, pressing a kiss against his lips with a gentleness that Akira might have called _polite_ , like he honestly was trying to show Akira his gratitude.

To Akira’s slight disappointment, Akechi let the kiss linger for only a few short seconds before pulling away.

“There,” he stated, nodding. “A fitting reward for saving my life.” A playful smirk tugged at the edge of his lips, and he added, “My hero.”

When Akira woke up, he felt particularly groggy and a little sweaty, his shirt sticking uncomfortably to his skin, and he had to blink a few times to remove the blur over his vision. A quick glance at his phone told him he had beaten his alarm by just a few minutes. Sighing, he sank back into his bed.

It was fine, he told himself. It was just a crush. It would go away if he gave it time.

 

* * *

 

So of course, Akira invited Akechi to Leblanc.

In his defense, he was particularly tired that day, leaning against a pillar and waiting for his train, impatient to get home after a lengthy trip to the Metaverse. Combined with the already long day he’d had at school, Akira was pretty out of it, so much so that he didn’t notice Akechi approaching him until the detective was already there, waving slightly to grab his attention.

“Kurusu-kun?” he asked, smiling when Akira looked up properly. “Ah, I thought it was you. It’s rare to see you here in the evening. Are you just now getting out of school?”

“Mm,” Akira nodded instead of elaborating.

“You seem worn out,” Akechi continued, unfazed by his non-reaction. “Are you in a sports club, perhaps?” The question was innocent enough, but the way he looked at Akira, as if he was looking through him, not at him, made Akira realize this was more of an interrogation than Akechi was letting on.

“I’m in the occult research club,” Akira said with a completely straight face.

Akechi’s eyebrows shot up his forehead, and he gave a stilted laugh. Akira could almost see the gears turning in his head as he tried to figure out whether or not Akira was joking. “Is that so?” he asked. “I suppose that would be a draining experience as well, wouldn’t it?”

“Draining is a good way to describe it,” Akira said, nodding seriously. “Although not in the way you’re thinking.”

Akechi’s laugh seemed a little more confident this time.

Tired but unwilling to let the conversation dwindle, Akira found the energy to ask Akechi about his day. Immediately, Akechi launched into a spiel about how he’d missed almost the whole day of school because the news station wanted to film another bit with him, and he really should have declined but it felt so rude to say no, and how he was so worried about finals – which were still a few weeks away, yes, but nonetheless with the amount of days he’d been absent…

Akira only noticed he’d missed his train again when it was departing the station.

“Oh… was that yours?” Akechi asked, following his line of sight. “I’m sorry. I distracted you.”

Akira shrugged. “I was already distracted,” he said.

“I’ll just have to keep you company until the next train arrives,” Akechi decided. “Is that fair?” he asked, pushing a stray tuft of hair behind his ear as he did.

It was a natural enough gesture on Akechi's part, but still it made Akira's heartbeat skip. He looked away, picking at a loose thread on his bag, and said, “Do what you want.”

So, Akechi stayed put.

It was surprisingly quiet in the station given the time of day, and once the last train pulled away, only the sound of distant conversation remained. Barely audible over that quiet din, Akira heard a low gurgling noise. He looked to Akechi, whose eyes flicked down to stare at the ground.

“Was that you?” Akira asked.

Akechi fiddled with the handle of his case. “I… may have skipped lunch today,” he admitted, looking for a moment like he may have been as tired as Akira felt. A half-second later, though, and his flat smile, the one that didn’t quite reach his eyes, was back on his face. “I’m fine, however. I just have to get home.”

“You should come with me,” Akira suggested, an unthinking offer that slipped from his mouth before his mind could stop it. “To Leblanc. I live above a café,” he explained. “It’s close, only three stations away. You could get something to eat before you go home.”

“A café?” Akechi looked like he was seriously considering Akira’s suggestion, but then his face fell, eyelids drooping slightly. “I… should really eat something more substantial than café fare, I’m afraid.”

“Sojiro’s specialty is curry,” Akira said.

“Coffee and curry?” Akechi asked. His eyebrows furrowed and then he winced, and though Akira couldn’t hear it this time, he suspected Akechi’s stomach was protesting again. “I admit I’m curious, and quite famished. If it wouldn’t trouble you to have me, then…”

“It was my idea, wasn’t it?” Akira said. “Besides, Boss could use the business…”

It didn’t take much else to convince him, Akechi’s stomach doing most of Akira’s work for him. The train ride to Yongen-Jaya was short and enjoyable, idle conversation flowing easily between the two of them, and they arrived at Leblanc just as Sojiro had finished prepping a fresh batch of curry. It wouldn’t be long before it could be served, and in the meantime, Akira donned his apron and stepped behind the counter.

“Do you drink coffee?” he asked.

“Oh certainly,” Akechi said. He had settled into a seat at the counter, looking a little uncomfortable, his hands tightly clasped together in front of him. “As for how it’s served, however, I have no strong preferences. May I leave the specifics up to you?” he asked.

“Sure,” Akira said, moving over to the roaster, only to be intercepted by Sojiro, who stared him down with an almost territorial glare. They had a brief staring contest, but Akira knew the look in Sojiro’s eyes – a look that said there was no way Akira was winning this fight.

“You know, you’re going to have to let me serve customers eventually,” Akira told him.

“Eventually, once I’m sure you won’t run them all off,” Sojiro agreed, although he had a fond look on his face.

Akira made a show of sighing and walking away dejectedly, and when he heard Akechi stifle a laugh, he decided he couldn’t be upset with the way things played out. Sojiro prepared a mellow house blend and set it down in front of Akechi, who relaxed a little more once he had something to occupy his hands. He took a careful sip of his coffee, not waiting for it to cool, and nodded approvingly.

“Delicious. Thank you, Sakura-san,” Akechi said.

That dragged a gravelly laugh out of Sojiro. “You’ve got manners, huh?” he asked. “Hey, you could learn a thing or two from him,” he added, nudging Akira with his elbow.

Akira made an affronted noise but let it go, moving over to take control of the curry before Sojiro could steal that from him, too. He ladled a generous portion onto a plate alongside a helping of rice and presented it to Akechi with a bit of a flourish.

“Here,” he said. “To satiate your poor, neglected stomach.”

“My hero,” Akechi said lightly, a laugh in his voice as he set his coffee cup aside and pulled the plate of curry forward.

Akira froze. The memory of his dream had almost completely faded away, but at Akechi’s words it immediately came back to him in a fresh, hot rush of embarrassment. That was… just a coincidence, probably. Yes, surely it was just proof of how well Akira knew Akechi’s mannerisms that his dream would say something so like the real Akechi, right? Right. And thankfully Akechi didn’t seem to have noticed any awkwardness on Akira’s part, or else he was just too polite to comment on the way Akira had gone stiff and awkward at a simple joke.

In fact, Akechi was almost hyper-focused on his meal, and he ate his curry with the most restraint Akira had ever seen. He was obviously very hungry, but he still had an image to maintain, one that did not involve scarfing down his food as quickly as his stomach could handle.

“You continue to impress,” Akechi said after a few more bites, and while his words were certainly meant for Sojiro, his smile was aimed at Akira. It left a fluttery feeling in Akira’s chest that melded with his lingering embarrassment and made him go warm all over.

It wasn’t long before Akechi was draining the last of his coffee, and Akira made his way back over to clear his empty dishes.

“I was obviously hungrier than I thought,” Akechi said, smiling a bit sheepishly. “I think I’ll be able to make my trip home now.”

“I’m glad,” Akira said. He paused, and then added, “You’re welcome any time.”

“Ah, be careful; I may just take you up on that offer, you know,” Akechi said. He gathered up his things and dropped his payment off with Sojiro, only to stop when he was halfway to the door, looking back over his shoulder at Akira. “Thank you again, Kurusu-kun. I’ll be sure to repay the favor sometime soon, okay?” he said, and then he had the audacity to _wink_ , and it was all Akira could do to smile weakly as Akechi disappeared out the door.

That… also wasn’t anything to be worried about, Akira was sure. It was a friendly wink, or just a joke, like before. Surely. Probably.

Seconds after the door closed, Morgana jumped up onto one of the bar stools, flicking his tail restlessly. “Why’d you do that?” he asked. “I thought we were trying to avoid Akechi’s attention.”

“It’s… reverse psychology,” Akira said slowly. “I’ll show him I’m not suspicious this way.”

The look of disbelief Morgana gave him – Akira didn’t know cats’ faces had that many muscles.

 

* * *

 

Occasionally, Akira’s dreams liked to mix things up and have him dressed as Joker out in the real world. When he was like that, he could travel around just as effortlessly as if he were in the Metaverse, scaling walls and leaping across gaps with unnatural ease. These were often his most pleasant dreams, the kind where he felt invincible, but tonight… tonight felt very different.

The sun was just dipping below the horizon, throwing long shadows across the streets. There was something strange in the air, something incomprehensible, something that had Akira on edge, had him keeping low to the ground and listening to random passersby, trying to catch a hint of what had the city so riled up. As he ducked into an empty alleyway to escape a too-crowded street, he felt the hair on the back of his neck prickling with anticipation. Perhaps he was being paranoid, but he was certain he was being followed.

He found cover behind an old pile of scrap and crouched down, muscles tensed and at the ready. The ambient sounds of the city became amplified, the distant roar of traffic and the incessant buzz of the street lamp suddenly filling his ears. He waited patiently, breathlessly, straining for even the slightest of movements, when at last something caught his eye.

It was as though a shadow had come to life, rippling out of the air and taking physical form. Shrouded in swirling grey-purple cloth, a humanoid figure snuck forward cautiously, its head swiveling from side to side as if it was looking for something – or some _one_. Still, Akira waited. He waited for exactly the right moment to pounce, a moment when he knew he could take down the stranger with ease.

When Akira saw his opening, he leapt out and launched himself at his target. It was over before the other could even react; Akira had him by the shoulders, slamming him against the ground and pinning him down. Like Akira, there was something covering his face, an item not unlike Joker’s own mask except that it was matte black and sharp around the edges. The impact from the fall caused the mask to dislodge itself from its owner’s face, however, and it was easy for Akira to knock the offending object away and reveal the stranger’s identity.

Goro Akechi, his face contorted with shock and rage, stared back up at him.

“Kurusu,” Akechi hissed. Struggling fruitlessly against Akira’s hold, he looked almost wild – his chest heaving, his cheeks pink with exertion – a far cry from the put-together Detective Prince the public knew. As he fully registered the situation he was now in, however, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath, his body relaxing a little. “Ah… hmm. Well done,” he said. “To think I’d end up the one caught unaware.”

Akira let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding and frowned down at Akechi. “Isn’t this a little beneath you?” he asked.

“Do you think so? One needs to think like a thief in order to catch a thief, wouldn’t you say?” Akechi asked. Though Akira had him well-caged, his hands were still free, and he wrapped his fingers around Akira’s wrists. His grip was vice-like, but he made no move to try and throw Akira off. “But still,” he said, “Running around in the open like this… it makes me wonder what you were up to.”

Akechi slid his hands from Akira’s wrists up along his arms and Akira flinched hard, tightening his grip on Akechi’s shoulders instinctively.

“You’re jumpy,” Akechi commented. “Are you nervous?”

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that?” Akira asked instead. “You’re the one who got caught.”

“Mm, indeed so,” Akechi said. His fury from earlier was completely gone, replaced with altogether too amused of an expression, given the circumstances. “And what will you do now that you’ve caught me, Kurusu? Hmm, no,” – his grin turned sharp – “what do you call yourself, again? Joker… If you let me go, you know I’ll just come after you again.”

It was true; Akira was starting to feel like the dog that had caught the car it was chasing.

“Or…” Akechi suggested, “Could it be you have me right where you want me?”

For the first time since he’d tackled Akechi to the ground, Akira took a moment to take in his surroundings, and – oh, they were close, closer than Akira had thought, barely an arm’s length apart, Akira on his hands and knees above Akechi. This kind of proximity… Akira’s arms nearly buckled under his own weight, and he felt his pulse jump.

It was kind of intimate, wasn’t it?

When he didn’t reply, Akechi took the initiative, releasing Akira’s arms at last in order to run his fingers over the edge of Akira’s mask and push it up off of his face.

“I haven’t forgotten what you asked for last time. Were you hoping for an encore?” Akechi asked, his hands sliding back to tangle in Akira’s hair and coax him closer. Akira gulped, his arms trembling, and he realized that somehow, without ever moving, their positions had completely reversed; now Akira was the one who felt trapped, the dingy alley fading away around them, Akechi consuming his field of vision as they inched slowly closer together, until Akechi’s lips were just barely ghosting over Akira’s.

Akira closed his eyes and…

Woke up.

He blinked twice just to be sure. Indeed, he was lying on his side and staring at the wall, his room lit with the sort of pale natural light that told him it was early still, but not _that_ early. Akira relaxed his shoulders and let the tension drain from his muscles. It was only a dream.

Was it bad that the first emotion he felt was disappointment? Probably, yes; to be unmasked now would put the others in danger, and as their leader, it was his responsibility to keep them safe – only this danger wasn’t even real. His imagination was simply over-active, and that was all there was to it. The proof was in the depiction of Akechi his brain had cooked up: so angry, so wild, so completely out of character that Akira was amazed he could even imagine him looking that way. It was strange.

It was kinda hot.

Akira chewed on his tongue, now acutely aware of the fact that he had gotten hard in his sleep. It wasn’t the first time this had happened, not even since he’d moved into Leblanc’s attic, but Morgana’s omnipresence usually relegated him to ignoring any morning hard-ons until he could make it to the bathroom and quickly relieve himself. It wasn’t exactly the height of satisfaction, but the only thing more embarrassing than waking up hard would be for his fuzzy companion to witness him taking care of the problem.

Discreetly, Akira scanned the room. Usually Morgana could be found sleeping beside his pillow, but sometimes he would wake up before Akira and go down to Leblanc to stretch his legs or harass Sojiro for breakfast. This morning seemed to be one of those mornings, as Akira couldn’t see Morgana anywhere.

Good.

Akira closed his eyes again. While the intricate details of his dream had started to slip away, the feelings it left with him were still prominent in his mind as he palmed at his growing erection from over his sleep pants. He didn’t need any more motivation than that to grow fully hard, and – he glanced back at the staircase, deciding that Morgana should be gone for a few more minutes at least, so as long as he didn’t try to drag things out…– he dipped his hand below his waistband and curled his fingers around his cock.

At first, he tried to focus on nothing more than the pleasurable sensation of heat jetting through his body as he touched himself, but the images his mind had conjured up were impossible to ignore; the dreamy memory of their barely-there kiss made his lips tingle, had him pushing harder into his hand. He took a sharp breath through his nose, thumbing over the head of his dick and squeezing. Yes, there was definitely something exciting about playing cat-and-mouse through the city with Akechi, and _especially_ about getting caught. Of course, the reality was that the Metaverse gave Akira a huge advantage over the detective, but it was still fun to pretend.

He could faintly recall pinning Akechi to the ground, but it was easy to imagine the opposite: Akechi taking him by surprise, unexpectedly deft and clever on his feet, knocking Akira to the ground, cuffing his wrists together before he even knew what hit him. Flat on his back and struggling against his restraints, yes; Akira could almost picture it. There was something enticing about the sensation of being so _helpless_ , completely at someone else's mercy...

He imagined Akechi would be smiling pleasantly as he always did, or perhaps looking a bit disappointed, unhappy that Akira, his… friend? Akira could only hope – was the culprit he had sworn to apprehend. Akechi, realizing that Akira was _reacting_ to this, would smirk, and his eyes would grow dangerous as he dropped his personable façade. The things he’d call Akira for daring to get hard when he was all tied up, the way he’d nonetheless press a palm to Akira’s straining cock, delighting in tormenting his prey…

The thought had Akira coming quick and dirty onto his hand.

For a moment, Akira just lay there, enjoying the aftershocks that shivered through his body. He could hear movement downstairs, though, so he kicked the blanket off of himself and rolled out of bed in search of a towel and some clean pants. He had just finished wiping his hand off when he heard Morgana padding up the stairs, loudly announcing that breakfast was ready.

Akira spent the rest of the day… distracted. The dream he could write off as his subconscious mind simply stringing odd thoughts together, mixing his everyday experiences with the cocktail of hormones his body was producing, but it had been a conscious decision to get off to said dream. It left an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach, part guilt at using someone he knew – someone Akira was starting to consider a friend, no less – as jack-off material, and part… he wasn’t sure.

Whatever it was, he hoped beyond hope that today would be one of the days he didn’t see Akechi, but it was no good; ever since that first trip, the detective had taken to visiting Leblanc a few times a week, today included. Akira thought he might be able to feign illness and sneak off upstairs to avoid any awkward conversations, but again, fate was not on his side: the moment he stepped through the door, Sojiro pelted him with his apron and dragged him behind the bar, leaving Leblanc completely not a minute later.

Resigned to his task, Akira turned his attention to the one customer currently occupying the café, the one customer he’d hoped to avoid today. Akechi, meanwhile, was trying to hide his grin, looking away from the door where Sojiro had made his speedy exit and back to Akira.

“I’m starting to understand why he took you in, despite being unrelated to you,” Akechi commented. “Free labor.”

“…something like that,” Akira said, wiping his hands on his apron, feeling restless and jittery when he hadn’t even had a single drop of coffee yet. Speaking of which… “Did he, uh – do you have a drink?” he asked Akechi.

“I’m afraid not; I only just arrived,” Akechi said.

“Give me a second, then,” Akira said, turning away a little too quickly to look natural. Focus, he told himself. Set the grinder to medium-fine. Blend. It was just a dream. _It was just a dream_. Get the water boiling before adding the grounds, and play it cool. Right now, he was the only one acting weird. Don’t let the coffee boil too long, and don’t drop the damn mug, and Akechi wouldn’t have any reason to suspect a thing.

“This is the first time I’ll get to try your coffee, isn’t it?” Akechi asked when Akira brought him his cup, which he accepted with a gracious smile. “How exciting.”

Akechi closed his eyes, breathing in the steam before taking a drink. Akira… didn’t even try to look away. If he got caught, he could always pretend he was just anxious to see Akechi’s reaction to his coffee, and that it didn’t have anything to do with the way Akechi looked almost _sensual_ with both his hands wrapped around the mug, his lips tightly pressed against the ceramic and growing red from the heat. Akira was so close he could see the way Akechi’s neck moved as he swallowed.

_Play it cool play it cool play it cool_

“It’s sweeter than Sakura-san’s,” Akechi said, “but… I actually quite enjoy that.” He was peering at Akira over the rim of his mug, purposefully hiding his mouth, leaving his expression vague. Then he lowered his eyes and said, “You always seem to know just what I want, Akira-kun.”

Akira thought he may have burst into flames with how scarlet his cheeks turned. He opened his mouth, trying and failing to stammer out a response.

Instantly, Akechi’s face clouded over, and he shifted bodily away from the counter. “I’m sorry, that was too familiar, wasn’t it?” he asked. “I apologize; it’s just what the others call you, and being here so much… I’ve gotten used to hearing it.”

“No! No, it’s…” Akira swallowed, because it _really_ wasn’t his name that was the problem here, “It’s fine. You can call me Akira.”

“Ah… thank you, then,” Akechi said. He looked visibly relieved and took another long sip of his coffee. The weird tension in the air seemed to evaporate, and Akira wondered if it had all been in his head the whole time.

Akechi stood up only a few minutes later, claiming he was just stopping in for a quick caffeine boost before heading back to work. Akira thought there was something off about his tone, his words carrying just a bit too much weight for someone merely talking about working overtime, but then he called him “Akira-kun” again while saying goodbye, and Akira lost focus. He held his breath until Akechi was completely gone, letting it out in one long sigh.

This was dangerous. He was projecting his fantasies onto the real Akechi in front of him, seeing things that weren’t there, _couldn’t_ be there, and god this was why he should have just ignored his dreams in the first place. And now that he knew what it sounded like to have Akechi say his given name, he was sure it was destined to become fuel for a dozen new fantasies that his brain would impose on him in the near future.

It took him a while to fall asleep that night, his mind unnaturally restless.

 

* * *

 

They were standing outside of Leblanc, together. It was late, really late, the sky pitch black and not another soul to be found on the streets of Yongen-Jaya. Akechi was beside him, hand over his mouth, laughing – warm, sunny, boisterous - a full-body laugh, not the demure little chuckle he’d give interviewers when taking pity on their poor attempts at comedy. Akira didn’t know why, but he was sure he’d been the one to make Akechi laugh like that, and that knowledge lit his nerves on fire, made him feel drunk with pride.

His memory was fuzzy. Where had they been? Had they been out? Together? What were they just doing? He couldn’t remember… he didn’t care. Akechi dropped his hand, his laughter dwindling away. They had been in the middle of a conversation, probably, and Akira had been about to say something, given the way Akechi was now looking at him expectantly.

He was holding something, Akira realized. He uncurled his fist, and found Leblanc’s key already in hand.

He looked at Akechi and asked, “Do you want to come in?”

Akechi smiled like he had been expecting to hear that. “Yes,” he said, his voice low and soft to match the night. “I’d like that. Thank you.”

It was too late to bother with coffee, not unless they wanted to stay up all night (though Akira thought he wouldn’t mind that much, staying up all night with only Akechi as company), so once they were inside and the door was safely locked behind them, Akira led the way straight back to the attic staircase. On the way, they passed by Morgana, who was curled up and snoozing peacefully on a booth seat.

Akira decided not to wake him up.

With each step he took, the feeling of anticipation in his stomach grew stronger. The attic was a mess; he hadn’t been bothering to keep it very tidy, since no one wanted to come visit him when all the summer heat from Leblanc rose up to his bedroom. It hadn’t been a problem when it was just him and Morgana up there, but he didn’t want Akechi to see it, for some reason. It was too late for those kinds of regrets now, though, because Akechi was right behind him as they crested the top of the stairs. Akira held his breath and waited for the mockery that was sure to follow.

Instead, all Akechi said was, “So, this is where you live?”

“Yeah,” Akira said. “I know it’s nothing fancy, but...”

“Nonsense,” Akechi said, with a wave of his hand. “It’s quite spacious, isn’t it? And it’s not as though you had much of a choice. Given your circumstances, it’s as good a living space as any.”

 _Diplomatic as always,_ Akira thought.

“Though it is rather warm,” Akechi added, slipping two fingers under his collar and loosening his tie, just a little.

“Yeah,” Akira said, again, forcing himself not to stare at Akechi’s newly-exposed skin. He made a beeline for his windows, cracking them open a few inches to let the cooler evening air vent inside. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Akechi said. “It can’t be helped.”

They slipped into an awkward silence, during which Akira’s mind kicked into a nervous overdrive. Why exactly had he invited Akechi up to his room, again? Why else? There wasn’t another reason. Akechi must have known that. Was he… expecting something? Or was that wishful thinking? The air in the attic was suddenly ten times hotter than usual, the tension between them so heavy it was almost palpable. Akira felt like he was swimming, or drowning.

“Well?” Akechi asked, unprompted, after a few moments. “Did you have something in mind?”

“I, uhm.” Akira blinked. He scanned the room, his eyes eventually falling on his TV. That seemed safe enough. “I’ve got some DVDs,” he said. “We could watch a movie.”

Akechi hummed something indistinct. “If you’d like,” he said, taking a step closer. Then he took another, and again, not stopping until they were all but touching. Akira stood rooted to the ground, unable to do anything but watch as Akechi advanced on him like some kind of predator. “But,” he continued, speaking slowly, like he had all the time in the world, “…do you want to watch a movie, I wonder?”

Akira swallowed hard. Fuck, this detective could read him like a book.

“I don’t,” Akira said.

“Good,” Akechi said, his tone morphing into something low and velvety. “Neither do I.”

A shudder quaked through Akira’s body at the insinuation. He felt warm and dumb and dizzy, like his head was stuffed full of cotton, and he was suddenly teetering forward on trembling legs. Akechi’s hands were instantly there to steady him, one behind his neck and one on his waist, bringing their bodies flush against each other in a single, smooth motion.

Now Akira could feel Akechi’s chest move with every breath he took, and he wondered if Akechi could feel the same, if he’d noticed how shallow Akira’s breath was coming now. The hand on his neck began to move – Akechi was toying with the fringe of his hair, rubbing little circles against his skin, and then he pressed against him with his fingertips, urging Akira forward.

Their noses bumped together before Akira had enough sense to tilt his head to the side and brush his lips tentatively against Akechi’s.

It was like flipping a switch, the way a spark ran through Akira’s chest the moment they touched, and instantly all the anxiety he’d built up through weeks of pining dissipated, because Akechi was leaning eagerly into their kiss, his lips curling upward, _smiling_. This was nothing like the innocent kiss he’d dreamed of so many weeks back; no, now Akira found himself acting with an almost desperate energy, wanting to drink in the moment for as long as he could, huffing a breath in through his nose to keep from breaking away.

 _His skin is so soft_ , Akira thought, sliding his hand up along Akechi’s chest and over his neck to caress his jaw. It was a sensory overload; he could feel Akechi’s hand splayed across the small of his back, grabbing at his shirt, keeping him close. His body was so warm, warmer now when it was pressed so close to Akechi, and Akira felt like he was about to break out in a sweat even as goosebumps prickled along his skin where Akechi touched him.

Akechi was the first to pull away, moving away from Akira’s lips in favor of mouthing against his jaw and down his neck, sucking and nipping at the sensitive skin.

“Goro,” Akira breathed, and god, even just saying the name gave him a thrill, a zap of electricity that danced all the way down his spine.

“Mm... I like that,” Akechi said. “Say it again…”

“Goro,” Akira repeated. Akechi hummed against Akira’s neck, made Akira shiver. “Goro… wow.” He felt high, the rush from feeling Akechi’s lips against his skin making him lightheaded and giddy.

There was a quick burst of movement as Akechi put a little distance between them, only to place his hands on Akira’s shoulders and push intently, guiding him backwards until Akira felt his legs hit the futon. He sank down onto the bed, Akechi bearing down on top of him and pressing him further into the mattress. Akira whined, struggling to catch up, to catch his breath, but Akechi wouldn’t let him; he crawled onto the bed and settled between Akira's parted knees, diving in for another kiss, his tongue swiping at Akira’s lips.

“How long have you been thinking about me? Dreaming about me?” Akechi asked. He didn’t wait for Akira to reply before kissing him again. “You’re not very subtle, you know,” he continued, his lips brushing against Akira’s with every word. “Always watching me in Leblanc. I’m actually surprised it took you this long to invite me up.”

“I wasn’t – I didn’t know if you were interested,” Akira said. It felt stupid to admit it now, not when Akechi was pawing at him so readily and looking like he was prepared to give Akira anything he wanted.

“No?” Akechi asked. “Hmm. You’re kind of oblivious, aren’t you?” Akira spluttered, and Akechi laughed. “It’s fine; it’s… endearing. I’ll just have to be more blatant from now on.”

“More… blatant,” Akira said. “About what?”

“You really don’t know?” Akechi asked. He snaked a hand into Akira’s hair and tugged, pulling him impossibly close. “Let me spell it out for you, then,” he murmured, his breath hot on Akira’s ear.

“Akira, I want you to _fuck me._ ”

Akira moaned, taking Akechi’s face in both his hands and kissing him roughly, sloppily, parting his lips for Akechi’s tongue to meet his and deepen the kiss even further. He knew now that he had to be dreaming – because this was too good to be true. He was already impossibly aroused, and Akechi – _god_ – Akechi ground his hips down against Akira’s, leaving him breathless and panting, not just from the friction but from the way it let Akira feel how hard Akechi was, too, his cock trapped and straining against his fitted slacks.

“Do you want that, too?” Akechi asked, rocking his hips against Akira’s in slow, torturous bursts. “It feels like you do…”

Akira gave a breathy sigh, rapidly coming undone beneath Akechi’s touch. In the back of his mind, he knew he really shouldn’t – want this, that is – because even if Akechi was still blissfully unaware that Akira was not just a Phantom Thief, but their _leader_ , it would be unwise to risk spending unnecessary time with the detective, lest Akira accidentally slip up and reveal a secret.

But…

“Fuck, yes, I want this,” Akira groaned.

“Perfect,” Akechi purred, and in an instant his hands were all over Akira, flitting under his top and pushing the garment off his shoulders, tugging his shirt off so quickly it made Akira’s head spin. Akira scrambled to do the same; Akechi’s tie, already coming loose, was easy enough for him to remove, but his buttons proved a much more formidable foe, not helped in the least by the fact that Akechi wouldn’t stop running his hands over Akira’s bare chest, thumbing over his nipples and teasing at the sensitive nubs, which grew more pert at every touch.

Yet when Akira found his hand hovering over the button on Akechi’s slacks, he hesitated. Akechi, too, seemed to take notice; his hands slowed, running up and down Akira’s side almost absent-mindedly, and he leaned away, arching his back just slightly to accommodate Akira in his task. His breath audibly caught when Akira pulled his pants down enough to expose his cock, a bit of his bravado fading away at last.

“C’mon… don’t just stare,” Akechi muttered, batting Akira's hand away and shoving his slacks the rest of the way down his legs, kicking them to the side. “You too,” he added, pushing Akira down and making quick work of his jeans, until those too were tossed aside, and the two of them reconnected in a heated kiss. The feeling of skin-on-skin was intoxicating, and Akira couldn’t help the way his hips jumped and pushed forward incessantly, desperately seeking more of that delicious friction.

Then Akechi, breathless and flushed, pulled away just enough to ask, “Do you have something I can use?”

Akira fumbled for his bedside table, managing to open the top drawer and pull out a little, mostly-full bottle of lube, which he passed off to Akechi. The bottle opened with a click and Akechi smeared a generous amount onto his fingers, while Akira sat back and just stared, because really, what else could he be expected to do? Akechi was a _sight_ , such a gorgeous sight to see, leaning back against Akira’s pillow with one leg bent at the knee so he could more easily press a finger into himself. To see Akechi - prim and proper media darling, Akechi - doing something so lewd... it was mesmerizing. Almost unconsciously, Akira wrapped a hand around his own cock, stroking himself while he watched.

At first, Akechi kept his eyes closed, a look of intense concentration on his face as he opened himself up, but after a short while he cracked an eye open, catching Akira staring. An amused grin spread across his face, and he slowly pulled his finger out of himself, crooking the lube-slicked digit at Akira, beckoning him closer. Akira’s cheeks went hot, his flush spreading low past his collarbone, but he followed his instructions and crawled over until he was between Akechi’s legs. Akechi held out his clean hand and Akira offered his own, which Akechi took, briefly lacing their fingers together before he pulled away and replaced his hand with the bottle of lube.

“You want to. Right?” Akechi asked.

Akira swallowed, but nodded and took the bottle, lubing up his fingers in a hurry. He was no stranger to this, but it was… different… touching someone else.

“Tell me if I hurt you,” he said.

“You won’t,” Akechi assured him, smiling. “But I promise I’ll tell you if you do something I don’t like.” Then he leaned back, propping himself up by the arms, and parted his thighs. “Come on, then.”

With a tremble he couldn’t quite suppress, Akira circled his finger around Akechi’s entrance, mimicking what he’d just seen Akechi doing, before pressing inside. It was slick and hot and _intimate_ , and Akira let out a shaky moan as he sank his index finger in to the knuckle.

“You can go ahead and use two, if you’d like,” Akechi said in a conversational tone. “I got fairly far with one finger already.”

Akira added his middle finger, and Akechi sighed appreciatively. He started to move, flexing his fingers back and forth, setting a languid pace. He realized he was only half working to open Akechi up, half just enjoying the act; he thought he'd be content to get Akechi off with his fingers alone, if Akechi wasn't already promising him more. With his free hand, he stroked Akechi's thigh, a tender little motion that had Akechi relaxing into his touch so that by the time Akira added a third finger, he was panting and whimpering openly.

 _Closer, closer..._ Akira thought, his fingers in as far as he could reach them, and then, with one particularly effective thrust, he found the place that made Akechi inhale sharply and clench tight around Akira’s fingers.

“ _Fuck_ … right there,” Akechi gasped, his hips bucking down against Akira's fingers. Akira gulped and made another swipe for that spot, and a downright obscene moan spilled from Akechi’s lips. He grabbed Akira by the wrist and stilled his movements

“Right there," he repeated. "Don’t forget, okay? I want you to find that spot again…”

Akira nodded wordlessly, unsure if he could get out anything more than a syllable long. Akechi let him go, pushing at his palm, and Akira’s fingers slid out almost without his intent. He wiped his hand on a corner of the bed sheet and nabbed a condom from his drawer, rolling it onto his dick and turning back around to find Akechi watching him closely, a lopsided smile on his face.

“How do you want me?” Akechi asked, his voice barely higher than a whisper.

Akira's mouth went dry, his cock throbbing at such a simple, brazen question.

“From the front,” he finally decided. “I want to see you.”

“Such a romantic,” Akechi teased, and Akira couldn't help the blush that came to his cheeks - but nonetheless, Akechi positioned himself on his back, his cock lying heavy against his stomach, hard and pink and dripping pre-come, looking more inviting than Akira could have possibly imagined as he lined himself up against Akechi’s ass.

The second his tip inched past the first ring of muscle, Akira let out a low groan, digging his fingers into Akechi’s hips to steady himself. He needed to start slow, he reminded himself, pushing his way into the heat of Akechi’s body while Akechi himself let out a contented sigh. When his hips reached Akechi’s and he was completely buried, he paused, taking a moment for Akechi to adjust to the feeling of Akira fully inside him.

Akechi looked up at him, his eyes half-lidded and clouded with want. “Okay?” he asked.

“Okay,” Akira whispered back. “I’m okay.”

“Good,” Akechi said, taking Akira by the chin and arching up into a kiss. When he pulled away, he had a wild look on his face. “Now _move_.”

“ _Fuck,_ ” Akira hissed, and obeyed his command.

The way Akechi tightened around him as he pulled out felt somehow even better than pushing in; he relished the drag of that tight, wet hole around his cock as he quickly thrust back in, trying to find the right rhythm. It wasn’t hard; Akechi was sucking him in so, so well, so hot and tight, and if that weren’t enough, there was Akechi himself, laid out on the bed below him, pushing his hips up to meet Akira’s thrusts and making breathy little gasps. Akira wasn’t sure if he was putting on a show just to make Akira feel better, but fuck if it wasn’t working.

“You’re so desperate,” Akechi said after Akira gave a particularly loud moan. He splayed his fingers over his mouth, pretending to hide his smirk but really just drawing further attention to the look on his face. “Do I feel that good, Akira-kun?”

Akira groaned in response.

Akechi lowered his hand. “I asked you a question,” he said, hooking his ankles around Akira’s back and holding him in place.

“Yes,” Akira barely managed to say. “You feel so good, Goro, _fuck…_ ”

“And I’m the only one who’s made you feel this way, right?” Akechi asked, loosening his hold on Akira and encouraging him to start moving again. "Right, Akira? Tell me… tell me what I do to you.”

“God…” Akira’s voice slurred, his hips stuttering against Akechi’s body. “Just look at me. I’m crazy for you.”

Delighted, Akechi arched his back and moaned for him. Shifting his angle a little to let his legs rest more comfortably, Akira pulled out nearly entirely before snapping his hips forward again, and a sweet, beautiful moan flew from Akechi’s mouth, his whole body going stiff.

“A-ahh, Akira—Again, Akira…” Akechi gasped. Akira bit his lip and tried not to come the second he heard Akechi mewling out his name; instead, he aimed for that spot again, and Akechi writhed beneath him. “Yes, right there, _yes_ —!”

“I – I can’t last, Goro,” Akira stammered out. He was so close, and he grit his teeth and shut his eyes and tried to stave off his orgasm, because he couldn’t come already, not when he was only just starting to make Akechi feel good, too...

“Just a – a little longer,” Akechi pleaded, looping his arms around Akira’s neck and pulling him closer. “Be good, be good for me, I’m close too, I promise…”

Akira whined, dipping down and pressing his lips harshly against Akechi's until they were panting into each other's mouths, Akira swallowing every breathy moan Akechi made for him. His thrusts were growing more and more erratic as the heat built in his core, and it was _so good_ , so amazing, holding Akechi in his arms like this, so close, so pliant and wanting - he thought he could stay here forever.

Akechi shifted and Akira looked down just in time to see him wrap a hand around his own cock; he started to stroke himself, his ass twitching around Akira's cock and bringing him so close, _so_ close, he could almost taste the pleasure that was about to come, if he could just _get there_...

“ _Akira,_ ” Akechi moaned, soft and sweet in his ear, and god that wasn’t fair, he wasn’t playing fair, pushing Akira over the edge like that with a single word—

…and then Akira was waking up, his eyes flying open, his hips rutting against the air and he was coming untouched, squeezing his thighs together in a vain attempt to ride out his unexpected orgasm, his whole body tense until his cock gave one last jerky spurt of come and his muscles uncoiled, his back hitting the bed again.

“Nnnn—eh? Huh? Akira?” Roused by Akira’s sudden movements, Morgana jolted awake and leapt to his feet, his big, bright eyes swiveling around, looking for the source of danger. “Are you okay?” he asked.

“Y-yeah,” Akira said. He blinked, but it was still so dark, so late, that he couldn’t see a thing. He placed a hand over his chest and felt his heartbeat drumming wildly just beneath his skin. “Weird dream, that’s all,” he explained, and gave Morgana a few apologetic scratches under his chin, which Morgana accepted with some reluctance.

“I’m… gonna get some water,” he added, pushing his way to his feet and stumbling groggily down the stairs before Morgana could protest. He made his way to Leblanc’s bathroom, splashing some water on his face without bothering to turn on the light. He ran his fingers lightly over his lips, over his cock, still sticky with come, and thought about how easy it was to imagine Akechi's touch, like he'd been there, like it had been _real._

He’d never had such an intense dream in his life.

 

* * *

 

“Oh, Akira-kun… goodness, you look tired.”

A soft, pleasant, too-chipper-for-this-hour voice roused Akira from his light nap. He wished his eyes hadn’t snapped open on instinct, because then perhaps he could have pretended to sleep, and avoid seeing the star of last night’s dream standing before him, waiting for his train like usual.

“Didn’t sleep well,” Akira mumbled, hunching his shoulders, hoping he could pass his blush off as a flush from the heat.

“Ah, that’s too bad,” Akechi said, leaning casually against the same pillar Akira currently occupied. Their shoulders brushed together, just barely. “I myself slept rather well last night. Many people may not think of it as a luxury, but a good night’s sleep can be… satisfying, don’t you agree?”

Akira froze, and he slowly – almost nervously – turned to face Akechi. He was smiling but it… wasn’t the smile Akira was used to, wasn't the smile he used in public – but Akira thought he _knew_ that smile. He’d seen it last night...

“Yeah,” Akira said.

“I’m glad we’re in agreement,” Akechi murmured. He opened his mouth, like he was about to say more, but then the intercom announced the arrival of his train, and he straightened up abruptly. “That's mine, unfortunately,” he said. He cocked his head to the side and smiled brightly, but in exactly the same tone of voice, said: “I hope you’ll have more pleasant dreams tonight, Akira-kun.”

Akira couldn’t respond, simply staring at Akechi until he disappeared as his mind reeled, trying to process everything. The way Akechi had been talking, it was almost like...

But there was just no way.


End file.
